


the lights in the shadow

by thebonerpit



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blow Jobs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Mages and Templars, Physical Abuse, Power Dynamics, Praise Kink, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebonerpit/pseuds/thebonerpit
Summary: Credence is a mage, abandoned by his family at the Tantervale Circle Tower as a child. The templars who are in control rival those in Kirkwall for their cruelty and brutality, and Credence spends every day trying to remain unnoticed to escape their abuse. One day, a new Knight-Captain arrives...





	1. chapter one

**Author's Note:**

> this is so utterly self-indulgent
> 
> WARNING: this story contains and will continue to contain a large amount of both physical and emotional abuse, although not within the main pairing. if that makes you uncomfortable please click off now!
> 
> ALSO: i took some liberties with dragon age canon but hopefully they won't annoy anyone too much (eg. i know templars don't need to say their abilities/spells out loud but i needed to do so for fic purposes). i kind of imagine this is happening around the end of da2 if anyone is curious.
> 
> AND: feel free to follow me on tumblr @ lewdbioware (very NSFW)

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow._  
 _In their blood the Maker's will is written._

_-Benedictions 4:11_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What is your name, child?”

“C-Credence, sir.”

The templar scribbled something down on a piece of parchment and handed it to the aide beside him.

“You’re in the third wing. You will report to Knight-Captain McTavish. You are expected to follow the rules of our Circle and any deviation from those rules will be cause for punishment. The Knight-Captain will assign you a bed, and we will provide clothing and any necessary provisions. You may go.”

Credence was frozen in place. The templar barely noticed until he looked up from his parchment and realized he was still there.

“I said you may go. What’s wrong with you?”

“I-I don’t... why...”

The templar rolled his eyes and peered in closer at Credence.

“I can see why your parents wanted rid of you, idiot child. You’ll find if you’re not able to follow basic instructions around here that it won’t be very fun for you.”

“I’m s-s-sorry, sir,” he stammered, fat tears rolling down his cheeks, “I... I just w-want to go h-home.” He couldn’t stop himself. Big hiccuping sobs started erupting from his chest and he felt like he was about to crumple to the floor.

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain across his cheek, and the skin immediately turned hot and red.

“Stop that at once,” the templar hissed, winding up to threaten him with another slap. “This is your home now. You should be on your knees giving thanks to the Maker that you’re here and not an abomination, a filthy apostate wandering the wilds and murdering innocents because you can’t control yourself. Your family doesn’t want you back; what family would want a mage amongst them?”

Credence had stopped crying from the sheer shock of being hit. His parents were strict and often cold, but they had never hit him like that.

“Now,” the templar continued, straightening back up, “go to the third wing. And pull yourself together lest the Knight-Captain see you in such a disgusting state. You. May. Go.”

The fear of another harsh slap was enough to get Credence’s feet moving, but he soon discovered that after heading through what seemed like miles of identical, twisting corridors that he had no idea where he was going. He slumped down against a wall, staring ahead blankly, until another mage discovered him hours later.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been ten years to the day since Credence had been given to the Circle. He was twenty now, a young man, but most days he still felt like the terrified child in that hallway. Once he had learned how to be inconspicuous, to blend in and behave, the abuse lessened, but every day he lived in fear of doing something that would draw the templar’s attentions. Once he simply dropped a mug, not even breaking it, and his hands were beaten so badly he couldn’t write for a week. It was a small comfort that at least he wasn’t alone. The templars treated all the mages like pond scum, and those that tried to speak out or fight back got it even worse. Credence sometimes felt like a coward for not standing up to them like the others did, but he had seen and heard the kinds of things the templars liked to do to the ‘naughty ones’ and it shook him to his very core.

Newt, his bunk mate, was one of the troublemakers, but he took everything the templars gave to him with stoic defiance, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing him suffer. But suffer he did. Credence held him at night while he sobbed quietly into his neck, cradling another broken wrist or burn or bruise. What kept him going were his creatures. He once told Credence it was worth every mark on his body they gave him if he could look after those creatures. He somehow managed to keep a pet nug hidden in their dormitory – Credence could never figure out how that was possible – and repeatedly snuck out of the tower to observe any animal that happened to wander close enough.

“I got one of the halla to eat out of my hand yesterday!” he crowed excitedly. “Normally they won’t come close to anyone who isn’t Dalish and even then... oh, Credence, it was beautiful!”

Credence was happy for him, he truly was, but he was also terrified. Newt had been sneaking out more and more frequently and it was only a matter of time until he was caught...

Today, however, that was the least of his worries. Knight-Captain McTavish was leaving the Circle, retiring to somewhere in Antiva to enjoy his old age by the sea. ‘How lovely for him’ thought Credence bitterly. Truly, he could have been much worse off. The Knight-Captain was harsh but he never beat his charges, usually ignoring them in favour of flirting with the elven servants or drinking. But with the Knight-Captain’s retirement came a new templar, an unfamiliar templar, someone who could be much worse. Credence didn’t have much faith in the Order after seeing how the majority of them acted. He wished he could have been placed with Knight-Captain Goldstein, the only one who had ever been kind to him, but she and her charges were relegated to the cellars and he rarely saw them. Goldstein had the nerve to speak out against the abuses she saw and while they didn’t get rid of her, they made her life a misery.

“At least in the cellars the rats don’t pretend to be something they’re not,” she whispered to him once, offering a small smile and a wink.

Credence held on to that smile as he fidgeted nervously, standing in the Great Hall with his dorm mates. He looked to Newt for reassurance but he was just staring straight ahead, blinking owlishly, likely thinking about what he wanted to feed the bronto that had been wandering around the forest nearby.

A door slammed open and he jerked upright as the Knight-Commander stalked across the stone floor, boots clicking loudly. Knight-Commander Picquery’s control of the room was effortless, much like her control of the Circle Tower. She was intimidating, terrifying, and obsessed with keeping their Circle as secure as possible. This meant that while she never personally abused any of the mages living there, she turned a blind eye to whatever was going on as long as the Tower remained free of abominations. Credence often wondered if that was an even worse crime.

“As you all know,” she began, coming to a halt in front of the group of mages, “Knight-Captain McTavish is no longer with us. This means you will be getting a new templar to keep you all under control. Your new Knight-Captain comes to us from the White Spire-”

She was interrupted by hushed whispers and gasps from the assembled crowd, templars included. The White Spire was the headquarters of the Templar Order, and only the best were ever called to serve there. It was said to be a lavish place, even for the mages, and rumours of its decadence had spread all across Thedas.

“Quiet! He comes to us from the White Spire by recommendation of the Knight-Vigilant himself, offering up one of his best and brightest as a reward for our continued success.”

Credence felt his heart sink a little. If the Knight-Vigilant saw their Circle as a success, Credence could only imagine what kind of person he was... and who he deemed to be a model of that.

“This is Knight-Captain Graves. He will be the primary supervisor of your group. Any concerns or questions going forward will be directed to him. I will allow him to make his own introduction to you.”

She stepped aside, and a man emerged from the shadows at the side of the room. Credence hadn’t even noticed he was there, but now he couldn’t imagine looking anywhere else. He was resplendent in his armour, steel plate shining with the templar insignia of a flaming sword etched into the breastplate. The crimson fabric underneath was unwrinkled, like it had just come off the loom, and his blade was equally unblemished as it hung shining by his side. He was younger than McTavish, perhaps in his 40s, with silver at his temples and large brown eyes that could be gentle if he wasn’t glaring down at all of them.

“Good morning.” His voice was deep and strong and it made Credence shiver. “The Knight-Commander has told me, and I can see for myself now, that you are all young mages who have not yet had their Harrowing.”

The mere mention of the Harrowing was enough to make Credence feel slightly ill, and from the looks of the others he wasn’t alone. It was a cruel test, putting a mage alone in the Fade to see if they could survive without being possessed by a demon... or going mad. If you passed your Harrowing you obtained a modicum of freedom, although still forced to live in the Tower for the rest of your life. If you failed... all that awaited was death or Tranquility, and Credence wasn’t sure which was worse.

Graves continued, “As it stands, I will be responsible for your well-being in addition to training you to withstand your Harrowing and--”

He was interrupted by a gentle cough from Picquery.

“... I’m sorry, Knight-Commander, is there something you wish to add?”

She smiled tightly. “We do not assist the mages with preparation for their Harrowing here, Knight-Commander. In the real world there is no training for warding off demon possession, and it may strike at any time. They should be ready to face the unexpected, and if they are strong enough to survive that, we can remain confident that they will survive anything else.”

Graves furrowed his heavy brow, and he opened his mouth as if to respond, but obviously thought better of it.

“Understood, Knight-Commander.” He turned back to their group, eyes locking on Credence. He felt himself flush and looked away quickly, but when he dared to look back up Graves’ eyes were still upon him. “As I was saying, I am now responsible for all of you. I intend to show you respect, as long as you afford me the same courtesy. That is all.”

He nodded at Picquery and walked out of the hall, presumably to his room and office where he was stationed. The Knight-Commander dismissed them soon after, and Credence was quick to tug on Newt’s sleeve as they walked back to their dormitory.

“The White Spire,” he whispered, slightly in awe.

“I heard they take meals together there, mages and templars. And mages are allowed to take trips home once they’ve passed their Harrowing.”

Credence couldn’t believe it. It seemed so different from their lives, and he wondered how he had the rotten luck of ending up in Tantervale.

“I wonder--”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Credence,” Newt said gently, “a templar is still a templar, no matter where they come from. He has absolute power over us, and power like that is easily corrupted.”

Credence nodded, worrying at his lip with his teeth. He wanted so desperately to cling on to the sliver of lightness in the midst of all this dark. He wanted to believe Graves was a good man.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

For the next month, nothing much changed. Graves mostly kept to himself, and the mages under his care felt just as inconsequential as they had with McTavish. Graves, however, seemed to prefer reading and studying over flirting with servant girls. The only interactions Credence ever had with him were when he performed the nightly bed check to ensure everyone was accounted for, and when they passed each other in the hallway on their way to and from the dining hall.

Newt hadn’t snuck out of the Tower since Graves arrived, wisely waiting to learn his routines, but he was growing restless.

“The bronto was pregnant,” he whispered to Credence one night, “and she’ll be ready to have her calf any day now. I need to see her, make sure... make sure she’s ok.”

“Newt, I don’t think--”

“I’ve been watching Graves, you know that. He’s out like a light an hour after we get locked in. I’ll wait two, just to be safe.”

Credence knew there was no arguing with him when he got like this.

“Just... be careful, alright?”

“Of course.”

Credence lay wide awake as he listened to Newt shuffling around, putting together a small bag of things to take, and he squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the soft click of a lockpick opening their door. He couldn’t sleep though, turning over fitfully, praying silently to the Maker to look after Newt.

He must have drifted off at some point because he was jerked awake by the sound of scuffling and a bang outside his door, followed by a number of loud whispered voices. Credence felt his heart pound in his chest as he gripped his sheets, hoping beyond all hope that it was just a few drunk templars wandering back to their rooms. But then he heard a low whine that was abruptly silenced by a sickening thud, and he knew. The scuffling noises continued down the hall, growing quieter as they moved away from his room, but Credence’s heart wouldn’t slow down. He kept imagining Newt, broken on the stone floor, his beautiful red hair matted with blood...

Credence sat up and kicked the covers off, not even bothering to put on slippers or shoes before creeping out the door and down the hall. There was no blood, not yet, but he followed the whimpers to what was an empty room at the end of the long passageway. The door was shut but he could hear what was going on clearly enough.

“You thought you could sneak out, little mage?” There was a harsh laugh and then another solid thud. “Thought you could hide in the forest, practicing blood magic?”

“Blood magic?” Credence whispered to himself. No. There was no way. Newt would never--

“And those disgusting creatures! Were you planning to bring them back here, hm? Let them loose in the tower so they could burn us all to death?”

Credence didn’t know much about animals, but he certainly knew that brontos weren’t capable of setting things on fire.

“They aren’t like that, they’re innocent-- NGHH.”

Newt’s voice was cut off by what sounded like a chair crashing to the floor.

“Dragonlings aren’t innocent, they’re monsters! And you wanted to unleash them on the Circle!”

“Oh, Newt,” Credence whispered, tears springing from his eyes.

“Since your Knight-Captain is nowhere to be found, we’re going to give you your punishment. Stand up.”

“No, I won’t, I--”

“SILENCE.” From behind the solid door, Credence felt a slimy, wet shiver run down his spine, and he nearly passed out. He imagined it was only the fact that he was behind the door, away from the direct hit, that he didn’t. Silencing was used by templars in only the most extreme cases. It completely drained the mage of their power, preventing them from casting any spells, whether they be offensive or defensive. It also left them weak, and for all intensive purposes, helpless.

“You brought that on yourself,” a voice said with a sneer.

“I saw him, he was about to Mind Blast you.”

Credence felt anger roiling in his stomach. Mind Blast was an advanced spell, there was no way Newt could have been trying to use it, and even if he did it wouldn’t have had any effect. And now he was without any defenses whatsoever.

“Well... let’s teach this little brat a lesson, shall we?”

The stone floor was ice cold against Credence’s bare feet, but he barely noticed. All he could focus on were the sickening cracks and thuds coming from the other side of the door, the cruel laughter, and complete silence from Newt. He was shaking – with anger, with cold, with fear – and tears were streaming hot down his cheeks as he stood with his palms pressed up against the wood of the door. It wasn’t fair. Newt was so good, and so kind, and it wasn’t FAIR.

A crackling at his fingertips was the only warning. Suddenly, the door blasted inwards off its hinges, striking one templar down to the floor where he lay unconscious, covered with shards of burning wood. Credence was still standing, frozen in place, hands outstretched and wreathed in blue electricity. There were two more templars in the room, both staring slack-jawed at the scene before them until one of them came to his senses.

“Andraste’s tits! SIL--”

It was like his body was beyond his control. The magic burst out of his fingertips like a dam had just crumbled, striking the closest templar square in the chest. He screamed as his body convulsed with electric current, and even when the screaming stopped, Credence kept going. Blast after blast of electricity shot out of his hands as the man writhed on the floor. Credence was still crying, but his face had twisted into a mask of pure anguish as he unleashed everything he had been holding back. The other templar had backed himself into a corner, clutching the hilt of his sword but obviously too afraid to get close enough to use it.

Smoke was starting to seep out from under the templar’s armour, and Credence knew he was killing him, but he couldn’t stop. He saw Newt on the floor, his face beaten so badly he was barely recognizable, and he let out a pained wail as more and more current flowed through his arms. The entire room was filled with blue light, sparks igniting old drapery that had been stored there, and Credence could feel a ball of light building and building between his hands, growing larger and more powerful, just begging to be released--

“SILENCE!” The booming voice echoed in the room, and it was as if all the bones had been removed from Credence’s legs. He crumpled to the floor, smashing his temple against the stone, but he barely felt it. His vision swam as he watched a flash of red streak past him to check the bodies on the ground.

“They’re still alive. We need a healer. Go! NOW!”

Credence heard the cowering templar scramble out the door, metal clanking as he ran to get help. He moaned, trying to sit up, but it was futile. The blurry red figure got closer until it bent down next to him. It was Knight-Captain Graves, dressed in dark leathers and his red tunic, but unarmoured.

“Credence,” he said, peering down at him with an uncategorizable expression on his face.

“P-please,” Credence moaned, clinging on to the last shreds of consciousness, “please help me.”

The last thing he felt before he passed out was a strong, warm hand on the back of his neck, holding him steady.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a lot of talking in this one. i really like writing dialogue??
> 
> also a quick note for those who aren't familiar with the dragon age universe, because i haven't explicitly stated this: tranquility is when a mage is cut off from the fade and therefore loses their magical abilities. it also takes away all their emotion and passion, so they're kind of a walking, talking potato. it's basically a lobotomy.

_I am not alone. Even_  
_As I stumble on the path_  
_With my eyes closed, yet I see_  
_The Light is here._

_-Trials 1:15_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I cannot believe we’re even having this conversation.”

“Neither can I, but I feel like it’s for entirely different reasons.”

“He attacked three templars, Graves! It’s non-negotiable!”

“He was defending his friend from being beaten to death and lost control.”

“Yes, exactly. He lost control. And mages who cannot control themselves are to be made Tranquil.”

Credence stirred. Everything ached, every bone and muscle, and at the mention of Tranquility his stomach cramped so fiercely he threw up over the side of the bed.

“He’s awake.”

“Yes, I can see that, Knight-Captain.” Knight-Commander Picquery’s face swam in front of him as Credence blinked his eyes open. She looked down on him like he was a bug waiting to be stepped on. “I’ll fetch one of the healers to clean this mess up. You best explain to him what’s going to happen.”

She slammed the door on the way out and Credence winced at the noise, curling in on himself in an attempt to stop some of the pain.

“The healers gave you some potions, but the Knight-Commander wouldn’t allow them to administer any lyrium. You’re still drained, and you’ll feel awful for a while. Try not to move too much.”

“Y-you--”

“Yes, I Silenced you. I... apologize, but I had no choice.”

When Credence managed to open his eyes again, he could see Graves standing beside his bed, now in full armour once more, and looking exhausted.

“You nearly killed that man, Credence.”

He let out a dry sob, clutching his pillow tightly. “He... he’s alive?”

“Yes,” Graves said, frowning, “I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

“No! No, no I... Maker, thank you. Thank you.” Credence pressed his face into the pillow, fresh tears making the fabric beneath damp.

“You didn’t want him to die,” Graves said quietly. It wasn’t a question, but Credence shook his head anyway.

“He was... they were killing Newt. I didn’t mean to, I--”

Graves put a finger to his lips. “Shh, quiet now. You need to rest.”

“B-but the Knight-Commander--”

“Let me deal with the Knight-Commander. I saw what happened in there, Credence. Never in all my years have I--” He stopped, shaking his head in disbelief. “That is not how we do things.”

“It’s how they do things here,” Credence said quietly, still afraid to meet Graves’ eyes.

He heard Graves sigh deeply.

“Maybe I’d be better off as a Tranquil,” Credence whispered, “if that’s what I’m capable of.”

“Nonsense,” Graves said, almost too loudly, but he tempered his voice when he saw Credence wince again. “You haven’t been taught to control your magic, none of you have. This place... they treat you like dogs, punish you for not listening to commands when you’ve never been taught them in the first place.”

Before Credence could reply, one of the healers came bustling in with an elven servant in tow. Graves straightened and gave Credence a curt nod.

“I will speak to the Knight-Commander. Rest, now.”

And he was gone.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Credence shifted in and out of consciousness for the next few days. His body felt completely drained of energy and he could barely lift a cup of water to his mouth, never mind get out of bed. He didn’t see Newt, and no one would tell him how he was except that he was alive. Knight-Captain Goldstein came by to see him one evening and although she was on the verge of tears at seeing him so unwell, she also barely stepped into the room, instead standing in the doorway with a hand on her sword.

“You’re scared of me,” Credence whispered, his throat still raw from screaming.

She shook her head but her eyes betrayed her. They always did.

Finally, when Credence was able to sit up in bed on his own, Knight-Captain Graves returned. He stalked into the room in full armour again but he was much more confident that Goldstein, walking right up to his bed and nodding.

“Credence.”

“Sir.”

“I have spoken to the Knight-Commander... at length.” He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and Credence noticed then how tired he looked. “She is very committed to keeping this Circle safe, and it seems she will stop at nothing to do so.”

“So... I’m to be made Tranquil, then.” Credence’s stomach dropped. He knew it was coming, he always knew, but he couldn’t abandon that tiny sliver of hope...

“No, Credence. You’re not.”

He blinked, and a solitary unshed tear rolled down his cheek.

“I’m sorry. Say that again?”

He could have sworn he saw a smile pull at the corner of Graves’ lips.

“You will not be made Tranquil. I argued your case and threatened to go to the White Spire with evidence of what happened to Newt, and that seemed to change her mind.”

Credence was dumbfounded. “I... Knight-Captain, I--”

Graves held up a hand to stop him.

“There is one condition.”

Credence swallowed thickly, unsure if he was prepared to handle any more news, good or bad, but he nodded for Graves to continue.

“You will be under my care, personally. Another Knight-Captain will take on the rest of your section and you will report exclusively to me. The education provided to mages in this tower is abysmal, so I will be teaching you how to control your magic. Credence,” he began, and moved to sit gingerly on the edge of the bed, “you are... incredibly powerful. I’m not sure if you realize that yet.”

It took a moment for Credence to even acknowledge that he was awaiting a response.

“N-no, sir. I was given to the Circle immediately after my magic manifested, and we’re not to use it here unless we’ve passed our Harrowing, and even then it’s very rare. Sometimes...”

He paused, suddenly frightened, unsure whether he could reveal this secret and still be safe. Safe with Knight-Captain Graves. The older man simply waited for him to continue.

“Sometimes I would wake and my linens would be scorched. Or once all of the windows were frosted over, even though it was summertime.”

Graves seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then he nodded.

“This is common in those who have repressed their magic. Sometimes it needs an outlet, and while an experienced mage can channel that into something productive, or even keep it inside safely, without training it is... unpredictable. Especially for someone as powerful as you.”

“You keep saying that, sir, but I don’t think I’m any more powerful that the other mages here...”

“No? Do you think Newt could have called upon as much lightning and flame as you did in that room?”

“No, I mean, I don’t know... I’ve never seen--”

“I have, Credence. I’ve seen mages do things you wouldn’t be able to dream of, and I’ve seen where those mages have started. They were just like you. All this untapped power, thrumming under your skin...” His focus on Credence had become almost frighteningly intense, and when he laid his hand on one bare forearm they both jumped like they had been shocked. Graves snatched his hand away immediately.

“I apologize.”

“It’s okay,” Credence whispered, both afraid and desperate for him to reach out again.

“I’m sure this is all very overwhelming for you, and I can only imagine how scared you must be. But I promise you I’m here to help, to show you how to control yourself so this doesn’t happen again, and once you pass your Harrowing... Credence, I can see great things for you.”

No one had ever spoken to him like that before. All his life he had been told he was an abomination waiting to happen, that he was unwanted, filthy, diseased with the magic that ran through his blood. He barely even saw a future for himself, never mind a happy one. But now... tears filled his eyes and he tried to look away so Graves wouldn’t see him crying, but it was hard to hide in such a tiny bed. 

“Thank you,” he managed to choke out, “for everything, Knight-Captain.”

Graves made a sort of soft humming noise in response, and Credence felt the bed shift as he stood up. It took every ounce of willpower not to reach out to hold him there, but thankfully Graves stepped in closer of his own volition. He laid a strong hand on the back of Credence’s neck, the same place where he had touched him on that awful night. This time Credence was much more coherent, and he couldn’t repress a tiny moan when he felt Graves’ thumb rub across the edge of his jaw.

“Do not thank me yet, Credence,” he said softly, still gently moving his thumb along Credence’s skin, “this won’t be easy. But I will be with you.”

His hand squeezed once, softly, and as he pulled it away his fingers caught briefly on Credence’s thick black curls. Credence leaned into the touch with the pretense of allowing him to pull free, and Graves’ palm caressed his cheek. He gasped quietly, and Graves made a similar almost pained sort of noise, before he quickly stepped away and out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click.


	3. chapter three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please check out [this AMAZING aesthetic/moodboard](https://vacantbloodbones.tumblr.com/post/172748827410/magecredence-templargraves-dragon-age-au) for this fic by [vacantbloodbones](https://vacantbloodbones.tumblr.com) on tumblr! I LOVE IT.

_Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him._

_-Transfigurations 1:2_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was another few days before Credence was allowed to leave the infirmary. His first steps were weak but he managed to make it back to his room feeling only slightly winded. Even though he was to be training with Knight-Captain Graves, he had been told to remain in his old room which he was actually pleased about because he had truly missed being around Newt. They had been bunk mates ever since Newt had arrived in the Circle a few years after Credence, and he considered him his closest friend.

When he opened the door to their room, Newt was sitting on the edge of the bed, as if he was waiting for him. It was the first time Credence had seen him since that night, and he felt his stomach drop a little when Newt tilted his head to look up. He must have been to the healers, must have been given potions and salves and tonics, but his face...

“Hello, Cre,” he said, smiling crookedly. One eye was almost completely swollen shut, and there were deep gouges along one side of his neck... gouges that looked exactly like the edges of a templar gauntlet.

“Newt... Maker, Newt, I--”

“I know what you’re going to say, Credence, so you just stop that right now.” He pushed himself off the bed, wincing as he moved. “Come here.”

Credence dropped his small bag of personal items he had at the infirmary and practically ran over into Newt’s outstretched arms, hugging him tightly.

“Gentle,” Newt gasped as Credence wrapped his arms around his small frame.

“I missed you so much,” Credence whispered, petting the back of Newt’s head in lieu of squeezing the breath out of him.

Newt chuckled softly and returned the gentle hug. “I missed you, too.”

Once Credence was able to let go of him (it took some time), they both sat back down on the bed. Newt rubbed a hand over Credence’s leg reassuringly.

“I’m alright, really Cre, I promise. It looks a lot worse than it is.”

“How... I don’t understand... why isn’t this healed yet?”

“They gave me potions,” Newt said, shrugging slightly, “but their armour had been enchanted. Most templars use runes or enchantments to make their armour and weapons stronger, and at least one of them had something on them that impaired healing.”

Credence shuddered. “That’s cruel. Even for them.”

“They didn’t do that with the intent of harming me, specifically. They were already in full armour when...” He trailed off and frowned, ducking his head in that way he always did when he was nervous about something. “Credence... how long were you... what did you hear?”

“They said you were using blood magic,” Credence said quietly, “but Newt, I know you would NEVER... you would never.”

Newt looked over at him and smiled sadly. “Why do you always have so much faith in me, Credence? Any other sane person would have reported me for sneaking out years ago.”

“Well... I guess I’m not very sane then, am I.” Credence glanced at him, his eyes twinkling, and they both started laughing.

“No, no,” Newt said, wincing again and holding his ribs, “maybe neither of us are. But I promise you, I wasn’t sneaking out to use blood magic. Even I know better than that.”

Credence sighed happily and nodded. He knew he was right, but hearing Newt say it meant a lot.

“There was also... um...”

“The dragonlings?”

Credence nodded.

“Yes, well... that one might have been true...”

“Newt!”

“I know, I know! But listen Cre, they were just hatchlings, abandoned, no bigger than chickens! Their fire could barely melt butter. I had already learned so much just from their nest, the research could have been invaluable if...”

His head dropped again, and this time it was Credence who put his hand on him.

“They killed them, Cre. Before they took me in. Stepped on them, lopped their heads off with their swords... it was awful. I never wanted to hurt another human so badly as I did in that moment.”

“But you didn’t. You were able to control yourself.”

Newt smiled wryly. “I suppose.”

“Unlike me...”

There was a moment of silence. Newt shifted on the bed and pulled Credence closer, letting him rest his head on his shoulder. He spoke softly.

“They only told me bits and pieces. I was unconscious for most of it. All I really remember is seeing bright blue light, feeling heat against my skin, and... I heard you screaming, Credence.”

Credence bit his lip hard enough that he tasted blood. He wasn’t going to cry over this, not again. All he wanted to do was forget that night ever happened, but Newt deserved to know. He told him how he heard the templars take him past their room, and how he followed.

“I stood at the door, listening... and I was scared, Newt. I was so scared. I just wanted them to stop!”

“I know, Cre.”

“I didn’t mean to. It just happened all at once and then I couldn’t stop. Not until...”

“It was Graves, wasn’t it.”

It wasn’t really a question but Credence nodded anyway.

“I looked him up in the library. Everyone who has written about him says he’s one of the most skilled templars in Thedas. When he was younger he tracked down apostates, and then he started being sent to Circles to deal with uprisings and abominations. I don’t know why they sent him here, honestly.”

“I’m glad he was there, even if he did Silence me. I don’t know what would have happened if he hadn’t.”

Newt grabbed one of his hands. “Credence. You’re not a bad person. You wouldn’t have harmed anyone on purpose.”

Credence tried to smile, but it just looked like a grimace instead.

“I’m going to be taking lessons with him now.”

“With Graves?”

Credence nodded. “He said he’s going to teach me to control my magic.”

“Cre, that’s amazing! That’s... that’s incredible!”

Credence just shrugged. The idea of being taught by Graves, working so closely with him... it was very appealing. But all he really wanted to do was bury that horrible magic back down inside him and never let it escape again.

“What’s wrong? Credence, if this is about what I said earlier, about not trusting Graves, I--”

“It’s not about that, Newt, I promise. I’m just...” He picked at the knobby bedspread, heart already pounding like mad just thinking about it.

“It’s alright to be afraid, Credence,” Newt said softly. “It’s often those who aren’t afraid that let their power get out of control. You want to make sure you don’t hurt anyone else, and the Knight-Captain seems to want to help you do that.”

They sat in silence for a while, resting comfortably against each other like they had done so many times before. Maybe Newt was right, Credence thought. If Graves really wanted to help him, he could maybe even pass his Harrowing in the next few years! 

“When’s your first lesson?”

“Tomorrow.”

Newt nodded. “I’m still mostly bedridden, but if you need me there...”

“No, Newt! I mean, of course, I’d love to have you with me, but you need rest. I’ll be fine. I... I trust him.” He felt himself blush at his own words, and was too busy ducking his head to notice Newt’s small smile.

“Alright... but if he gets too prickly with you...” He raised his fists up and tried to look threatening, instead coming off like a slightly annoyed mabari pup. Credence tried not to laugh, he really did, but he dissolved into giggles against Newt’s shoulder, his heart feeling light for the first time in ages.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although he was nervous about his first lesson, Credence slept well and woke feeling almost back to normal. It was reassuring to be in his old room, listening to Newt snoring gently in the bed next to his, and he was glad once again he hadn’t been made to move somewhere else. He dressed quickly, pulling on his robes and soft leather boots, and made his way to Knight-Captain Graves’ room. He wasn’t told to bring anything with him but still, he felt awkward standing outside the door with his hands clasped together in front of him. He took a deep breath, and knocked.

The door opened almost immediately and Credence felt his mouth drop open. Graves was shirtless, clad only in his cotton trousers, not even wearing slippers or shoes. Credence had never seen someone with a body like his before; planes of solid muscle covered with dark hair, broad shoulders, a tantalizing v at his hips pointing directly to... He turned bright red, eyes snapping up to Graves’ face, who was looking at him with an amused little smirk.

“Good morning, Credence. You’re quite early, you know.”

“Y-yes, I know, I just... didn’t... want to be late.”

Pathetic.

“Alright. Come inside, then, while I finish dressing. Would you like some tea?”

Credence followed him into the room, still slightly stunned from before and now even more so as he took in his surroundings. The room was massive compared to his and Newt’s, a circular space with bookshelves on every wall. A large desk sat near the back covered with even more books, and there was a doorway near to it where Credence could just glimpse the edge of an unmade bed. There were a few smaller tables and chairs scattered around, and one held a pot of steaming tea.

“I, um...”

Graves looked at him, slightly exasperated. “Credence. I know that you aren’t used to templars being... nice to you. I know you eat separately and it’s practically forbidden to even speak to each other. That cannot be the case between us, nor should it be. As I said on my first day here, I will treat you with respect if you afford me the same. Talk to me, ask me questions... have some tea.”

Credence swallowed thickly. “Alright. Yes. T-thank you, sir.”

“Good,” Graves said, and poured Credence a mug. “Drink. I’ll just be a moment.”

Graves handed him the mug and then disappeared into the bedroom. The tea smelled delicious and Credence sipped it happily as he wandered around the room, not daring to touch anything but peering intently at the spines of books as he walked. Graves had tomes on every spell Credence had heard of and more, books on magical theory, the history of Thedas... it was almost overwhelming. As he approached the desk he noticed a tall staff leaning against the wall, a relatively simple design with a silver sphere on top. It was propped up beside Graves’ sword and shield, also gleaming silver in the sunlight that was creeping in through the high windows.

“Do you like it?”

Credence started, sloshing his tea over the edge of the mug. It was still piping hot and he let out a cry of pain, so shocked that he dropped the mug. It shattered on the stone floor. He froze, ice water in his veins, and immediately dropped to his knees to try to clean the mess with his own robes.

“I’m so sorry Knight-Captain, I’m SO sorry, I didn’t mean to, please, I can fix it, please, just let me--”

“Credence!” He stilled, curled in on himself as he anticipated some sort of blow to his back or head. But it never came. Instead, there was that warm gentle hand on his neck, and Graves bending down beside him.

“Credence,” he said, softer now, “it’s alright. It was just a mug.”

Credence was shaking, kneeling in the midst of the spilled tea and broken ceramic shards.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

He heard Graves sigh, and then the clank of his armour as he sat on the floor beside him.

“Let me see your hand,” he said.

It was bright red where the tea had splashed him, but there didn’t seem to be any welts or blisters. He offered it to Graves slowly, his head cast down at the floor, still unsure whether or not he would be punished. He thought he might whip him there – that had been done to another mage before – or maybe push his hand into the teapot to make it even worse... but neither of those things happened. Instead his skin suddenly felt cool, as if it had been dipped in a lake on a summer day. He dared to look up.

Graves was holding him gently with one hand, and the other was laid on his burn. There was a blue light seeping out from under his hand that lasted for a good ten seconds before it faded, leaving the skin feeling calm.

“Does that feel better?”

“Y-yes. Thank you.”

“I can only soothe it temporarily. I’ll give you an elfroot salve to put on it tonight, and you should be fine by the morning.”

Credence didn’t know what to say. He was so unaccustomed to this kindness that he was still expecting something horrible to happen, like Graves was just being nice to him to trick him.

“Knight-Captain, I--”

“Shh, no more apologies. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m sorry for what’s happened to you here to make you so afraid. It’s despicable. You deserve to be treated better than this, Credence.”

Credence shook his head. “I don’t. You saw what I did, I don’t--”

“You DO,” Graves said firmly, grasping Credence’s face gently with both hands so he couldn’t look away. “I don’t want you to ever feel afraid with me. You’re going to make mistakes, big and small, but that’s part of what learning is all about. And I’ll be here to make sure those mistakes don’t hurt anyone else. Alright?”

Credence’s face was pink and hot beneath Graves’ hands, and his eyes fluttered closed as he felt one of those hands reach up to push an errant curl back behind his ear.

“I... I understand, sir,” he breathed, and when Graves retreated and moved his hands away he leaned forward, subconsciously chasing their warmth.

“Credence,” Graves whispered, and when looked up again Graves’ eyes were dark and wide, focused on Credence’s mouth.

“Yes, Knight-Captain?” he asked, just as softly.

Graves let out a breath Credence didn’t realize he had been holding and stood up abruptly, nearly tripping over his own legs as he bent to hastily collect the broken shards on the floor.

“Go back to your room and change your robe, Credence, you’re soaking wet. I will finish cleaning up here, and when you return we can begin our lesson.” Graves didn’t look at him when he spoke.

“Y-yes sir,” Credence replied, hurrying to his feet. He felt dizzy as he walked down the hallway to his room, and had to stop to hold on to the wall for fear of toppling over.

“Maker’s breath,” he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. Knight-Captain Graves was a good man, much too good of a man to bother wasting his time on Credence, and he would be damned if he was going to let a silly crush ruin his one chance at having some semblance of a life. He was going to change his clothing and go back into that room and not let anything distract him from being the best student he could possibly be.


	4. chapter four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to say thank you SO MUCH for your comments, kudos, and also to anyone who might be lurking but still reading. it makes me so happy and so motivated to keep working on this, and i'm honestly having so much fun writing it. thank you all for indulging me :)

_My Creator, judge me whole:_  
_Find me well within Your grace._  
_Touch me with fire that I be cleansed._  
_Tell me I have sung to Your approval._

_-Transfigurations 12:4_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was no trace of the mess on the floor by the time Credence returned to Graves’ room. The man himself was standing at one of the shelves, engrossed in a book in his hand, but he looked up immediately when Credence entered. He offered him a small smile which Credence returned shakily.

“Good. I think I prefer that colour on you, anyway,” he said, in what appeared to be an attempt to make Credence more comfortable. Instead he just blushed furiously and tugged on the front of the deep blue robes. Graves, thank the Maker, pretended he didn’t notice. “Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes, Knight-Captain. May I ask... what exactly are we going to be doing?”

Graves chuckled softly and beckoned Credence over to where he was standing.

“First, we’re going to get you accustomed to using a staff. Is it safe to assume you’ve never been given one of these before?” Graves gestured to the silver staff Credence had been looking at previously.

Credence nodded as he examined it more closely. It was deceptively simple, for as he leaned in closer he could see the grip was wound tightly with some sort of purple-ish blue fabric, and the sphere on top was inscribed with delicate runes.

“It’s modelled after the Wrath of Lovias, a legendary staff that was stolen by apostates many years ago. It’s not as frightening as it sounds, don’t worry. Why don’t you pick it up?”

“A-are you sure?”

Graves nodded. He was wearing all his armour, sans helmet, and Credence knew he was powerful enough to stop him if things got out of hand but... he was still terrified. Mages in the Tower were forbidden from using staffs until they passed their Harrowing, and even then it was only under very specific circumstances where they could be controlled if necessary. Graves seemed to sense his unease, so he picked up the staff himself and held it in front of him.

“Just take it slow. Nothing will happen unless you will it to.”

Credence exhaled, and then wrapped both his hands around the grip of the staff. There was a brief tingling feeling, and then... nothing. Graves slowly took his own hand off, leaving Credence holding the staff on his own.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels... good,” Credence answered, daring to pull it closer and turn it over in his hands. Graves looked pleased.

“The metal it was forged from enhances any sort of electricity spell. From what you displayed a few weeks ago, that seems to be your natural strength. However, it has also been imbued with a spirit rune. Are you familiar with that kind of magic, Credence?”

“Sort of... Newt told me about barriers before?”

“Yes, very good. Spirit magic can do many things but learning how to cast a barrier is one of the first things I’m going to teach you. It can not only protect you, but others around you as well, and once you master it there’s a possibility of it being used offensively.”

Credence frowned slightly at that. “Why would I want to--”

“Credence. I know you’re uncomfortable with the idea of using your magic against anyone or anything, but it is essential in understanding how to use and control your power properly. Practising those spells means the difference between giving someone a headache and putting them into a coma. Do you understand?”

“I do, sir. I’m sorry.”

Graves waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t apologize. Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Graves explained to him that the staff was meant to channel his magic more effectively. Instead of bursting out of his hands, it became focused and precise, more easily controlled. For the first few hours Graves simply asked him to let his magic flow into the staff and then draw it back out again. The first time he tried it, a bolt of lightning flew out the end and struck the wall behind Graves.

“Maker’s breath!” Credence cried, dropping the staff immediately.

“It’s fine, Credence. Pick it up. Try again.”

With the smell of ozone still lingering in the air, Credence took a deep breath and tried once more. After a good number of misfires, Credence was finally able to infuse the staff with magic until the silver ball was crackling with lightning, but otherwise stable. Drawing it back in was easier, although after hours of work Credence was beginning to sway a little on his feet. When he nearly stumbled into the desk after his last attempt, Graves moved in quickly and caught him by the elbow.

“I think that’s enough for now.”

“I can keep going, sir, I think I--”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Credence, but draining and refilling your mana like this takes a lot out of you. I’m actually surprised you lasted this long.”

Credence felt a surge of pride at Graves’ words. No one had ever encouraged him like that before, especially not about his magic. He was about to thank him when there was a soft knock at the door, and an elven servant slipped through carrying a tray of food.

“Ah, just place it on the desk, thank you,” Graves said. The elf nodded and left just as quietly as he had entered. “I asked for some lunch to be brought up for us.”

Credence’s stomach growled at the smell of the delicious food, but he was still frozen in place, holding the staff tightly. Dining with a templar was forbidden. Even Knight-Captain Goldstein didn’t eat with the mages under her charge.

“I... apologize, Credence, if you would rather eat with your friends I understand.”

Graves ran a hand through his dark hair, frowning and shaking his head. He almost looked embarrassed. Credence was nearly overwhelmed with the urge to comfort him, but instead he just held the staff even tighter, his knuckles white on the cool metal.

“No, it’s not that, Knight-Captain. Newt is really my only friend here anyway, but... it’s... the Knight-Commander, sir. She has forbidden us from taking meals alongside the templars. She says it’s too much of a distraction for them, and they need the time to enjoy their own company.”

Graves looked at him in disbelief for a moment before snorting out a laugh and rolling his eyes.

“I really shouldn’t be surprised, yet...”

Credence didn’t know what to say, so he remained silent. Graves was still positioned at his elbow, and he reached out to touch him gently on the arm.

“If it makes you nervous or uncomfortable to stay, I won’t be upset if you leave. However, I can promise you that the Knight-Commander will have no say as to what goes on in this room. And... if I may be so bold... I would enjoy your company.”

There was a flash of blue light as a shower of sparks exploded out of the top of the staff Credence was still holding. It startled both of them, but Graves simply smiled, his eyes dancing with amusement as he pried the staff out of Credence’s iron grip.

“Let’s put this away for a while, shall we?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know how that happened!” Credence’s heart was beating as quick as a nug’s, fluttering in his chest like it refused to be contained any longer. What Graves said... it sparked something inside him, some burst of emotion that escaped through the staff.

“Magic can be... unpredictable,” Graves said as he leaned the staff against the wall, “especially for someone like you who has never had any formal training.”

Graves looked like he was about to continue, but ultimately thought better of it. Instead, he pulled another chair up beside his desk and gestured for Credence to sit. It felt so reckless, even with Graves’ promise to protect him from the Knight-Commander. Credence knew he should go to the dining hall as he always did, eat his flavourless meal with Newt without complaint, and return for his lessons in the afternoon. However, despite what he knew, he found himself sliding into the chair and eagerly cutting into what looked like some sort of meat pie. It was still steaming hot, the smell alone enough to make his stomach rumble, and he couldn’t help the small moan of pleasure that came out of him as he swallowed the first bite. He was, in fact, so consumed by this incredible pie that he didn’t notice Graves wasn’t sitting across from him until at least half his piece was gone. A soft clanking noise made him whip his head around to where Graves was carefully removing his armour.

“’Msorry sir,” he sputtered out around a mouthful of pie, “I didn’t... I thought you were...”

“I understand you wouldn’t be aware of this, but it isn’t very comfortable to sit in armour, never mind eat in it. I assume you don’t mind?” Graves placed his heavy chestplate on the ground and was left in his dark brown leathers and red tunic. Credence could only stare as Graves ran a hand through his hair as he made his way back to the desk. He found himself unable to look away; Graves looked so much softer out of his armour, more gentle, and it was so easy to imagine those arms wrapping around him and holding him close...

Credence choked a little as he forced himself to swallow his last bite.

“Good?”

He nodded.

“They don’t feed you like this, do they...”

“Not even close,” Credence admitted, staring hungrily at the rest of the food on the tray.

“Well go on then,” Graves said, the amusement clear in his voice, “eat up. Don’t want the servants to think they didn’t cook a good meal.”

Credence looked up at Graves from under his lashes. He smiled tentatively. Graves shifted in his chair, leaning forward to grab a juicy red apple from the pile before them. He shined it briefly on his tunic before offering it to Credence, who had an incredibly inappropriate flash of him bending down to eat it right out of Graves’ hand. He blushed, but quickly plucked the apple from his fingers and took a bite. He nearly shivered from the explosion of flavour in his mouth, and leaned back to continue to crunch away happily. It seemed to please Graves, who barely took his eyes off him even as he offered him more food and poured him wine.

“We’re forbidden from having--”

Graves raised one hand to stop him. “From now on, it is forbidden to say the word forbidden in here. Understood?”

“Um... yes, sir,” Credence answered, taking another bite from his apple to hide his pleased grin. The wine was strong but Graves was careful to only pour him just enough to make his cheeks flush with warmth. The rest of the meal was mostly silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Credence felt so happy that he even grew brave enough to offer Graves a real, full, genuine smile – although it was behind the lip of his wine goblet.

“That suits you,” Graves said, tilting his head as he took a sip from his own cup.

“Newt says he likes my smile, too,” Credence said, popping a grape into his mouth, “and that it makes him smile whenever I do.”

A shadow flitted briefly across Graves’ face. “Oh. Are you and he...”

Credence nearly choked again as he laughed. “No! No, it’s... it’s not like that. I love Newt, but he’s like an older brother to me. He’s always looked out for me here. Like I said, he’s kind of my only friend...”

Graves seemed to relax, and then swallowed down the rest of his wine in one go.

“Right. Shall we get back to it, then?”

Credence nodded, but he was so full of delicious food and wine that all he wanted to do was curl up and nap. He frowned, his lip pouting a little as he slowly pushed himself out of his chair. He was being insolent, he could feel it, but instead of punishing him Graves looked at him with an almost fond expression on his face.

“Next time, maybe less wine. But this will be good, it will help to be more relaxed for this.”

“For what?” Credence asked, stifling a yawn.

Graves handed him the staff again and directed him to stand in the middle of the large room.

“You’re going to try to cast a barrier.”

Credence blinked. “Wh-- already?”

“Yes. Like I said Credence, you have an incredible amount of power inside you. I’ve seen already this morning that you’re capable of harnessing it.” He laid a hand on his shoulder. “You can do this.”

Credence exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of the staff in his hands. Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the increasingly intense desire to impress Knight-Captain Graves, but Credence suddenly felt a rush of boldness.

“I can do this,” he repeated.

“Good. Now focus on the staff and on the spell you wish to cast. Start small, it doesn’t need to--”

Graves was interrupted as he was nearly knocked off his feet by a burst of green energy. Credence had cast the barrier, but it was almost dangerously unstable and felt more like a Mind Blast than anything else.

“Knight-Captain!”

“I’m alright, Credence, it’s ok,” he said, but he allowed Credence to steady him as he recovered. He wasn't wearing his armour so there were no enchantments to protect him, aside from his innate abilities. He seemed to be fine, though, and was more intent on comforting Credence. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t mean for it to be that strong,” Credence said, slightly bewildered. “I just thought of the spell and it happened right away!”

Graves straightened, and then cocked his head like he was considering something.

“I... I don’t want to hurt you, Knight-Captain, you should really put your armour back on...”

“I’ll be just fine,” he said, stepping in closer. Credence inhaled sharply as he placed his hands gently on his waist, turning him to face the far wall. He could almost feel the heat from Graves’ body behind him, his back nearly flat against Graves’ chest. “Templars are able to Cleanse magic, sort of a less powerful version of Silence. If I stay here close to you, I can tamp down your ability just enough so it doesn’t burst out of control.”

Credence could barely breathe. Graves was so close to him, close enough he could feel hot puffs of breath against his ear when he was speaking. His hands were warm weights on his hips, holding him steady, and it took all his willpower not to lean back into him. He squeezed his eyes shut instead.

“I’ve got you, Credence,” he whispered. “Now try again.”

Credence didn’t remember much from his childhood before he was given to the Circle, but he remembered the lake near his family’s home. He remembered playing there with his sisters, splashing each other until their parents scolded them. And then he remembered sitting by himself in the shallows, feeling the soft sand underneath him as the gentle waves lapped at his chest. It was so peaceful, swaying to those waves... just like it was now.

“Open your eyes.” The voice was so quiet he barely heard it.

“Mm,” he hummed, still swaying in place, cool and calm.

“Credence, open your eyes.”

He blinked slowly, and would have taken a step back if it wasn’t for the solid weight behind him. A shimmering green film was floating in front of him, and when he looked around he saw that it stretched to form a globe that surrounded both him and Graves. Graves, who was still holding him, laughing softly against his ear.

“It... it worked...” The magic was flowing through him but it wasn’t frightening now. It felt natural, just like the steady beat of his heart... like the gentle push and pull of the waves.

“Look at you,” Graves said quietly, and Credence tilted his head just enough to see Graves smiling. He wasn’t focused on the barrier, or the staff... he was focused on Credence. They were so close, noses nearly bumping as Credence swayed forward, both of them bathed in soft green light.

All of a sudden the door swung open with a bang and Credence was so startled he dropped his staff, dissolving the barrier. Graves jumped away from him like he had been scalded as a templar barged into the room.

“Knight-Captain, I require your assistance with... oh...”

The man stood there for a moment, surprised, and then his face morphed into a sneer as he stared at Credence who was shivering and disheveled.

“I didn’t realize you were, er, indisposed, sir,” he said. His voice sounded just as slimy as he looked.

“I am not indisposed,” Graves snapped. “What do you want?”

“It’s a private matter,” the templar said, still staring at Credence. “I won’t take up too much of your time.”

Graves sighed, and gave Credence an apologetic glance.

“I’ll just be a moment, Credence. Please don’t try anything until I return.”

“Yes, wouldn’t want you to bring the whole Tower down with an errant spell...” the templar said.

“Enough,” Graves growled. He took a deep breath and straightened himself up. “This better not be a waste of my time. Let’s go.”

Graves followed the other templar out of the room and closed the door behind him, leaving Credence alone and a shaking mess. Every ounce of happiness he had in him was cruelly ripped away the second that man saw them together. Credence knew the templars here, knew that he would take what he saw (or what he thought he saw) and use it to exact some sort of cruelty. All he could do was pray to the Maker that it was taken out on him, and not the Knight-Captain.


	5. chapter five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took a bit longer! combination of real life and being stuck on a few things. hopefully it pays off at the end though ;)

_For You are the fire at the heart of the world,_   
_And comfort is only Yours to give._

_-Transfigurations 12:6_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Graves returned, the mood was decidedly more somber. He didn’t explain where he had been called away to, and after a brief apology for his absence, he gave Credence a book on magical theory to study.

“A-are we not going to continue with casting barriers, sir?” Credence asked quietly, feeling as though he was being punished for something.

“Not today,” Graves said. His expression was serious but he offered Credence a half-hearted smile. “You were doing well, but we shouldn’t have pushed you that far so soon. Go on, read the first chapter.”

It was evident there would be no bargaining with him, so Credence did as he was told, and the rest of the afternoon passed in silence. It was around supper time when Graves dismissed him.

“Take the book with you. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir,” Credence said, barely risking a glance up at him before scurrying out. Something ugly was bubbling in his stomach as he walked back to his room and he had nearly bitten his lip bloody trying to contain it. It wasn’t fair. For once in his life he had been using his magic and hadn’t felt terrified, and then that awful templar had to come in and ruin it and--

His thoughts were interrupted as an armoured shoulder crashed into him, making him drop his book on the floor and stumble sideways.

“Watch where you’re going!” Credence clapped a hand over his mouth, shocked at what had just burst out of him. He had never spoken that way to anyone before, especially not to...

“What did you just say to me?” A templar loomed over him, backing him up against the wall. Credence was like a nug trapped in a snare, and he could feel the panic building inside him.

“I-I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realize--”

“You didn’t realize, hm? You have a smart mouth on you, mage. Maybe too smart for your own good...”

“Wait.” Another templar came up beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “I think this is the one Graves was talking about...”

The man who had him boxed in smirked.

“Graves’ pet mage. Disgusting. Can you imagine protecting someone who nearly killed three members of your own Order?” He shook his head, and then reach up to trace a gloved finger along Credence’s jaw. “There must be something really special about you...”

“Stop it,” the other templar hissed. “If Graves sees you--”

“Graves is a disgrace to the Order,” the man snapped. But he seemed to think better of whatever he had planned, and stepped away from Credence. “Don’t think for one second that just because he’s taken an interest in you that we’ve forgotten about what you’ve done. He can’t protect you forever.”

He turned on his heel and stomped away with the other templar trailing close behind him. 

Credence could barely breathe. He felt hot, like his skin was seconds away from bursting into flames, and underneath all of that was the magic crackling through his veins, begging to be released.

“No, no, no, no,” he whispered, crumpling to the floor and squeezing his eyes shut. The stone felt cool against his palms and as the heat retreated ever so slightly he desperately tried to think back to his lesson, to how he had felt with Graves beside him. The calm waves of the lake seemed so far away, the weight of Graves’ hands on his hips noticeably absent, but he willed himself to reach out for those memories.

“Please,” he begged, tears running down his face, “please make it stop.”

Graves’ voice echoed in his head, telling him to stay calm. The waves lapped at his chest. Credence breathed. Slowly, very slowly, the fire receded. It took every ounce of his strength to bring himself back from the brink of exploding but... he did it. Just like pulling his magic out of the staff. He blinked away the tears from his eyes and stared at his own hands, amazed. He hadn’t been as far gone as he was that night with Newt, but even the possibility of being able to control his own magic was incredible. The lightness in his heart, however, didn’t seem to match his weak, heavy limbs. Getting to his feet was perhaps the biggest struggle of the whole evening.

By the time he got back to his room he was exhausted. He couldn’t bring himself to go down to the dining hall and instead just collapsed on his bed, passing out almost immediately. The next thing he knew he was being gently shaken awake by Newt.

“Credence... hey... are you alright?”

“Mmfine,” he mumbled, blinking sleepily and wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth. “Just fell asleep for a minute.”

“More than a minute. You missed supper.” Newt dug into his pockets and pulled out some bread and cheese that he must have smuggled away. “It’s not much, but...”

Credence sat up, still bleary-eyed, and smiled.

“Thank you, Newt.” He wasn’t really hungry but he took the food anyway. It seemed to appease Newt who finally sat down on the edge of his own bed, although he was still looking at Credence with furrowed brows.

“So... how did it go?”

“It was good. We didn’t do much, mostly just theory. The Knight-Captain is a good teacher,” Credence lied as he took a bite from the roll in his hand. The bread was stale and Credence nearly choked as he forced himself to swallow it. After the meal he had with Graves, all of the food he had to eat would pale in comparison.

“Oh! Well. That’s... good, then.” Newt didn’t look convinced. The last thing Credence wanted was to have Newt worrying about him. He had done more than enough of that for the years they’d known each other, and after what happened to him... Credence conjured all of his energy and smiled brightly, kicking out his foot to knock against Newt’s.

“Hey, it was nothing special. It’s just beginner stuff. You know I’d tell you if I did anything incredible.”

“Yes, your ego, Credence, it can’t be contained. Always bragging about yourself, honestly...” They both laughed at that, and finally Newt seemed to settle down.

“I’m just not used to doing so much in one day. Would you mind if I went back to bed?”

“Of course not,” Newt said. “I have some papers I want to finish writing but I’ll keep the candles low.”

It was a good while before Credence was able to fall asleep again, however. Not only was he terrified of what the templars were planning, but he had just lied to Newt. Telling himself he did it to keep him safe only provided a small comfort, and he drifted off into a restless sleep with a knot in his stomach.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Credence’s lessons continued as planned. Graves seemed his usual collected self, so Credence could only assume that he hadn’t heard any murmurs of dissent from his fellow templars. They were also leaving Credence alone for the most part; it should have been a blessing, but instead it was just making him more nervous. The templar that accosted him in the hall – he had learned his name was Shaw – was still the only one who displayed any sort of open disdain towards him, but he was perpetually surrounded with a small group of men and women who he would whisper to, staring at Credence as he did. Credence shuddered to think of what he was saying.

Knight-Captain Goldstein, although already ostracized from her peers and not involved in much gossip, stopped him in an empty hallway one afternoon with concern etched in her face.

“Credence, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Of course, Knight-Captain.” He had just finished a particularly interesting lesson with Graves and was happily buzzing with new knowledge.

“Please, Credence, I’ve told you it’s ok to call me Tina when we’re alone.”

“I know, I just... I’m sorry. Tina.” It felt so strange in his mouth but it seemed to make her happy.

“Listen, I know it isn’t any of my business but...” She paused, looking around to make sure they were alone. “I’ve been hearing things. Things about you and Knight-Captain Graves.”

Credence frowned. “What sort of things?”

He could have sworn he saw a blush streak across Tina’s cheeks, but she hid it well, ducking her head and moving in closer to speak in his ear.

“Some of the other templars seem to think you’re... that he’s...”

It was Credence’s turn to flush. He knew what she was implying.

“I-it’s not like that, I swear.”

“Credence I’m not accusing you of anything! It’s him that I’m worried about.”

“Knight-Captain Graves? Why?”

She sighed and laid a hand on his shoulder, offering him a small smile.

“I just don’t want you to be... taken advantage of. Graves is in a position of incredible power over you, even if you don’t fully realize it. He could have you made Tranquil or even killed with the snap of his fingers if you did something he didn’t approve of.”

“He would never--!”

“Credence, I know... I know you want to believe that. I do too.” She shook her head and squeezed Credence’s shoulder lightly before letting go. “I don’t want to tell you what to do with your life. Maker knows we all need to take our happiness wherever we can find it, especially here.”

Credence was bright pink now, curling in on himself so Tina couldn’t see.

“He’s never... I’m a mage. He doesn’t want me like that. Why would he?”

“I... I’m so sorry, Credence, I didn’t mean to make you upset.” She fiddled awkwardly with her gauntlet. “Just... be careful, alright?”

“T-thank you... Tina... I will.” Credence looked up and offered her a smile. He was truly glad there was at least one person in the Tower who was concerned about his well-being, although if he never had to talk to her about his personal life again it would be too soon.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been almost two months of lessons with Knight-Captain Graves and they still hadn’t progressed past the most basic of spells. Credence was growing frustrated but he didn’t dare press his luck, telling himself that Graves knew best and was just trying to keep him safe. In his heart he knew that was a lie, though... he could tell Graves wanted to show him more, but something was keeping him from doing so.

It was an unseasonably warm day and Graves’ room was beginning to feel stuffy. Credence tried desperately to concentrate on the book in front of him but he was distracted by the dust floating in the streams of sunlight coming in through the high windows. He imagined what that sun would feel like on his face, wondered if he would still get that smattering of freckles across his nose like he did when he was a child...

“Credence...”

“Yes sir! Sorry, sir, I... I just drifted off for a moment.”

Graves was sitting behind his desk and although there seemed to be a mountain of papers in front of him, he hadn’t touched any of them since the early morning. It was fairly common now for him to forgo his armour during lessons, but today he even had the sleeves of his tunic rolled up and the laces undone. He looked just as uncomfortable as Credence felt.

“Perhaps... sir, if it’s alright, could we see if there’s somewhere in the basement to study today? It’s always much cooler down there.”

Graves sat back in his chair and chewed on his lip while he thought. He was staring at Credence with an almost unnerving intensity which had Credence on the brink of apologizing for asking when he abruptly stood up. He nodded, as if affirming his own decision, and grabbed his sword from the table it had been laid upon earlier.

“Bring your staff, Credence. It’s too nice of a day to spend inside, especially in that dreaded basement full of rats.”

Credence frowned as he sluggishly stood up to follow Graves. “I... I’m sorry sir, where are we going?”

“Outside. There’s a clearing in the forest not far from here that I’ve used for training before.”

Credence froze in place.

“K-knight-Captain... you... you must know--”

“That mages are not allowed to leave the Tower? Yes,” he said with the hint of a smile, “I am aware, Credence. Yet another practice I find intolerably cruel.”

He walked over to Credence, picking up his staff as he went. Credence took it from him but was still unable to move his feet.

“You’ll be safe with me, Credence. And if anyone asks, you’re assisting me with picking elfroot for potions. Is that alright?”

It was terrifying, if Credence was being honest, but he also wanted nothing more than to feel that sun on his skin, to breathe in the fresh air... to be there with Graves. So he nodded, and Graves smiled.

“Follow me.”

He lead him down to the main floor and out a door Credence didn’t even know existed. They saw only a few other templars on their way and most of them paid them no mind, obviously assured that Graves knew what he was doing. Credence’s heart thumped wildly in his chest until they were far enough into the forest that the entrance to the Tower was obscured. Birds chattered to each other in the branches as they walked, the only sound besides their footsteps on the dry leaves. The heat was significantly lessened in the shade of the tall trees and Credence shivered as the sweat on his back dried.

“It’s just up here,” Graves called back to him, pointing at a small clearing peppered with trees ahead. Credence could see deep slashes in some of the trees where Graves had obviously hacked away with a training sword, but aside from that it was pristine. The ground was covered with soft moss that had Credence sorely tempted to take off his boots.

“This feels much better, doesn’t it?” Graves had set his sword down by a tree he was leaning against. He looked more relaxed than Credence had ever seen, hair slightly mussed from the walk and with a serene expression on his usually serious face. He looked... lovely.

“It’s beautiful,” Credence said quietly, almost afraid to break the peaceful silence.

“It is,” Graves replied, just as softly. He pushed himself off the tree with his shoulder and made his way over to where Credence was standing. “It’s also quiet, and calm, and isolated... a perfect place for you to try some new spells, don’t you think?”

Credence blinked. “I... yes, I’d love to, sir!”

“I know you’ve felt a bit resentful towards me lately--”

“No! Not at all, Knight-Captain, I--”

“Shh, it’s ok,” Graves said, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I understand. I haven’t been showing you as much as I could have been. That first day, when you cast that barrier... it was incredible, Credence, and believe me when I say I was almost overwhelmed with the possibilities of what I could teach you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No. The templar who interrupted us went to the Knight-Commander, told her I was teaching you “dangerous magic”. It took everything in my power to convince her otherwise, and to allow these lessons to continue.”

Credence bowed his head. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Don’t be. I just wanted you to understand... I wanted you to understand that it wasn’t your fault.”

Credence looked up at him. Graves’ hand was still resting on his shoulder, and when Credence smiled tentatively, Graves squeezed and slid down his arm to grasp his hand.

“Try not to think about any of that today. We’ll start with the staff exercises again to ease you into it. Are you ready?”

Credence’s palm felt hot and sweaty in Graves’ hand, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“I’m ready.”

It was the most enjoyable day Credence had in... well, as long as he could remember, actually. His magic seemed to flow so naturally and he was casting barriers with no effort whatsoever. The largest one almost covered the entire clearing, and Graves was suitably impressed. Graves even showed him how to call down a lightning bolt from his staff. It frightened him at first, striking the ground with a thunderous crack, but Graves was right there beside him the whole time. He explained that while it seemed intense, Credence could pull back with his casting and strike someone just hard enough to make them drop any weapon they might be holding.

“It’s just like any other spell,” he said. “It’s the intent behind it. You decide if you want to incapacitate someone long enough to run away or call for help, or... if you want to kill.”

Credence couldn’t imagine willingly fighting back against anyone, never mind killing them. If he could control himself enough to just knock them unconscious... but he knew that when his emotions ran high, controlling himself was still excruciatingly difficult.

Suddenly there was a loud crack and a flurry of movement in the underbrush, and Graves’ hand flew to his sword. Credence gripped his staff, ready to put up whatever sort of barrier he could muster. The bushes rustled, and then a high-pitched whimper echoed through the air.

“Stay there,” Graves whispered. He crept over to the edge of the clearing and peered into the forest.

“Knight-Cap--”

Graves put up a hand to shush him, but then he gently laid down his sword at his feet. His stance was cautious but much less aggressive as he moved into the forest and partially out of Credence’s line of sight, which made him very nervous. He was going to call out to him again when Graves appeared, carrying a small furry bundle in his arms.

“It’s a fennec,” he said softly. The creature squirmed but it seemed exhausted, unable to free itself from Graves’ arms. Then Credence noticed the blood. “It must have been attacked by something.”

Credence made a soft noise and immediately ran to Graves’ side. The fennec’s chest was heaving and it looked terrified. There was a deep gash all along its stomach... deep enough that no simple potion could help it.

“It was caught in a snarl of bushes,” Graves explained. “It’s not going to last long... we could at least give it some comfort.”

The fennec’s big ears twitched, and Credence could already see its breathing start to slow. Graves was stroking its head, whispering softly and trying to calm it down. Tears sprung from the corners of Credence’s eyes. He felt so helpless; all he wanted to do was help this poor creature, though he only had one potion with him which would only prolong its suffering. But then he remembered...

“Sir... one of the books you gave me... there was a spell called Revival.”

Graves looked up at him.

“Credence, that’s very advanced. We haven’t even practiced anything close to that yet. I want to help it as much as you, but...”

“Please, sir. Let me try?”

The fennec had settled in Graves’ arms. Its chest was barely moving now, and it was struggling to keep its eyes open. Graves sighed.

“Go on, then.”

They both sat on the mossy floor and Credence took up his staff. He touched the fennec on the head with his other hand, gently stroking one of its velvety ears.

“Shh, we’ve got you. It’s alright.”

He closed his eyes. He could feel his lashes against his cheeks, still wet with tears, and he channelled every ounce of that emotion into his staff. The fur of the animal was so soft against his hand and soon he could feel its tiny heart beating, its life flowing through his palm. He felt its pain. A choked sob escaped his mouth as it whimpered again.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. The magic was there, it was so close, but the fennec’s heartbeat was still growing weaker. “I’m sorry.”

Credence didn’t hear him move, but Graves had shifted close enough to lean in and press their foreheads together. He could feel the warmth of his breath on his lips and his heart fluttered in his chest. The fennec stirred.

“I can feel the magic around us, Credence,” Graves whispered, “it’s working. Don’t stop.”

The staff was hot in his palm as every ounce of his mana coursed through it, focusing his energy on the animal between them. Credence felt its pulse speed up to match his own, and when it made an excited yip he opened his eyes to see the flesh of its belly knitting together. A choked gasp escaped his mouth and he felt tears flowing again, but this time they weren’t from sadness. Shapeless green spirits floated around them, diving in and out of the fennec as it healed until it wriggled free of Graves’ arms. They both looked up as it bounced down on to the thick moss, shook out its fur, and made a happy trill before trotting off into the forest.

Credence clapped a hand over his mouth, afraid he must look like an utter lunatic with the massive grin that was currently on his face.

“Maker, it worked...” Graves was still close to him, and when he turned he was staring directly into his eyes. He reached up to pull his hand down and held it tight in his own. “You did it. You’re a miracle, Credence.”

And then he kissed him.

Credence was so shocked at first he didn’t even close his eyes. He made a small noise as Graves’ soft lips pressed against his own but it quickly changed to a moan as he felt his hand wrap around the nape of his neck. Graves inhaled sharply through his nose and Credence finally let his eyes flutter closed, already lost in the sensation of Graves’ warm mouth. He could feel his stubble against his chin, scratching lightly as he shifted, pausing only to breathe before kissing him again. Credence’s hands darted out and clutched Graves’ forearms, the closest things he could grab. It was only when he tried to pull him even closer that Graves broke off the kiss with a gasp, scrambling back on the ground and pressing his fingers to his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Credence,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a growl. “That was... that was so inappropriate, I shouldn’t have... Maker’s breath, how could I be so stupid.”

“N-no, sir, Knight-Captain, it wasn’t--”

“It was!” In the quiet clearing his shout was almost deafening. “It was. I... I am a templar, and your teacher. It isn’t right.”

“Knight-Captain Graves--”

He was interrupted by a bark of laughter from Graves. “You can’t even say my first name, can you?”

Credence bit his lip, trying desperately not to cry. Graves looked like he had just been socked in the stomach.

“We should go back,” he said, getting to his feet, “it’s getting late.”

Credence didn’t even realize what he was doing until he was on his feet as well, and then pushing Graves up against the nearest tree to kiss him again. This time it was Graves who was stunned, and didn’t recover until Credence opened his mouth ever so slightly to lick against the seam of his lips. Then he felt strong hands grab his shoulders and push him back gently.

“Credence... Maker, we can’t...”

“Please don’t say that.”

“It wouldn’t be right!”

Credence’s face was burning with shame and want. He could still feel the scrape of stubble on his chin and he desperately needed more.

“Please, Knight-Captain. Percival...” He watched as Graves’ face crumpled at the sound of his own name. It didn’t feel as strange as when Knight-Captain Goldstein asked him to do it. It felt... natural. Like it had always lived somewhere in his mouth, waiting to be spoken aloud. He moved closer again, not to kiss him, but just to rest his head on one broad shoulder. He heard Graves take a shaky breath.

“No one can know about this, Credence. We would have to be so careful... and you deserve more than being someone’s secret.”

Credence raised his head to look at Graves in the eyes, his desire overcoming his shyness.

“All my life I’ve been told what to do by other people. I’ve been told what’s best for me and to just shut up and be happy I’m not an apostate running for my life.” His hand was shaking as he reached up to cup one of Graves’ cheeks. “This is my decision. I want this, and I want you. Please... please kiss me again.”

Graves still looked pained, but he placed one of his own hands over Credence’s to calm his trembling, then shifted his head enough to press his lips against his palm.

“We both know that no good can possibly come of this,” he murmured, “but I can’t deny I’ve wanted you since the moment you walked into my room.”

Graves’ mouth had moved down to his wrist but Credence had grown impatient and pressed in closer, nuzzling their hands out of the way to get to his lips. There was no hesitation this time. They kissed fervently, gasping into each other’s mouths as their tongues wound together. Credence was embarrassed at the noises he was making but he couldn’t stop whimpering, clawing at Graves’ tunic as he relished in the heat of his body pressed against him. They kissed for what felt like hours, days, with Graves gently pulling back every so often to calm Credence down. 

“More,” Credence pleaded, licking his swollen lips. A low groan rumbled through Graves’ chest.

“Not here,” he said, looking up to the sky. “It’s almost supper. If we stay any longer...”

Credence ached for him, but he knew he was right.

“Come to your lesson tomorrow as usual. I will... I will think of something.”

Credence nodded and was about to back away when Graves leaned in to press one last fierce kiss against his mouth, leaving him slightly breathless. When they finally managed to pull themselves together, they collected their things and walked back to the Tower. Credence followed Graves closely, smiling and touching his lips the entire way.


	6. chapter six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check out that rating change, bay-beeeeee! FINALLY. thank you all again for sticking with me and commenting/liking. i think there will be one more chapter and maybe an epilogue? depends on how it all comes together. but we're almost there!
> 
> t/w: very brief mention of rape, nothing to do with the main characters

_You have seen me when no other would recognize my face._   
_You composed the cadence of my heart._

_-Trials 1:11_

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Credence couldn’t remember ever being so happy. That night, after Graves kissed him, he couldn’t sleep. His lips were still tingling and his entire body was thrumming with energy. It was only when he was absolutely sure that Newt was asleep that he slipped a hand into his cotton trousers, palming at the hardness there. He had done this before, always quietly and always in the middle of the night, but it had been perfunctory, a quick and joyless thing to ease whatever tension had built up inside him. This time, he thought of Graves.

It was halfway to torture, how slow he was going, but he didn’t want it to end. He was imagining how Graves’ tongue felt in his mouth, and then how it would feel on his neck or his chest or... He had to bite his lip to stop himself from groaning. He was so hard, leaking all over his hand and the sheets, and heat bloomed all up his torso to his cheeks. Tentatively he slid his other hand up to rub at one peaked nipple and that was nearly the end of him, especially when he pictured Graves’ large, callused fingers instead of his own slender, soft ones.

He twisted his head to whimper softly into the pillow as he sped up his strokes. Now it was just flashes of lewd imagery: his lips wet with spit and stretched around Graves’ cock, Graves’ fingers digging bruises into his hips, whispers in his ear telling him what a good boy he was. He came suddenly, shoving a hand between his teeth to muffle his moans. His whole body was shaking and he was so filthy and wet and flushed and Maker, he felt incredible. A grin crept across his face and he threw a hand over his eyes, shy even in the privacy of his own bed. Not even caring about the quickly cooling wet spot on his sheets, Credence relaxed back into the mattress and eventually drifted off, still smiling.

The next morning was unfortunately much less pleasant as he had to peel himself out of stiff, sticky trousers while Newt (bless him) pretended to still be asleep.

“Mm, morning Credence,” he said when Credence had stopped rustling about.

“Morning, Newt,” he replied, trying not to seem overly cheerful. But Newt noticed, because Newt always notices.

“Did your lessons go well yesterday then? Sorry I didn’t see you at supper, I was stuck helping Knight-Captain Sullivan with mixing potions. She’s useless, that one.”

“Um... yes! I, er, I... cast a barrier?” He figured if he gave up a little tidbit, Newt might forget to pry any deeper. Luckily, he was right. Newt nearly jumped out of his bed and proceeded to assault Credence with questions for the rest of the morning. It was actually a relief to be able to talk about it with someone else, especially someone like Newt who was so excited but who Credence could also rely upon to keep a secret.

As much as he enjoyed talking to him, he was still happy to say goodbye for the day and almost ran up to Graves’ room after breakfast. When he walked through the door and saw his face, however, he was suddenly overcome with shyness. He felt himself go bright pink and could barely meet his eyes.

“Good morning, Credence,” Graves said. It was his usual greeting, but his voice was... different, somehow. Credence dared to glance up and he saw him staring at him with the most fond expression on his face. He looked so naturally stern with those strong brows and dark eyes that when he looked at Credence with such _gentleness_ , it almost stopped his breath. He gathered himself and walked over, ready to kiss him senseless, but when he got close Graves halted him with a strong hand against his chest.

“We can’t.”

Credence’s heart clenched, and his face must have fallen so abruptly that Graves’ expression changed to shock.

“No, Credence, I didn’t mean... just, not here. Not in the Tower.”

He exhaled sharply and almost had to steady himself on the desk beside them.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered before he could stop himself. He panicked slightly, so used to behaving himself and never talking back, but Graves just laughed.

“I certainly hope not. I’ve grown quite fond of you, you know.”

Credence ducked his head, but reached up to cover Graves’ hand – still resting on his chest – with his own. Graves allowed it for a brief moment before pulling away.

“Credence, look at me.”

He did.

“It’s far too dangerous to be anything other than a templar and a student of magic while we’re here. There were almost disastrous consequences from us just standing close together. I can’t imagine what would happen if...” He trailed off and shook his head. “While we’re in the Tower, we continue as we always have.”

Credence nodded. He didn’t like it, but he understood.

“Travelling out to the clearing didn’t seem to raise any alarms,” Graves continued, “so I would like to think we can use that time as our own.”

“Today?” Credence asked hopefully, but Graves shook his head.

“We can’t push our luck. Even once a week... I don’t know.”

“Once a week?!” Credence couldn’t imagine not being able to touch him for more than a few hours, never mind a few days.

Graves let out a brief chuckle, but his face was sympathetic. “It will be... difficult for me, as well. Believe me. Why don’t we say five days from today? We can work on the foundations to some spells you can practice out there, too.”

“Alright,” Credence said quietly. He stared at Graves for a moment and it took everything in his power not to kiss him. Instead, he resolved to study extra hard, wanting to impress Graves with some more magic when they were finally alone.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five days passed torturously slow. Newt kept pestering Credence about being distracted, not acting like himself, but he managed to appease him by explaining how the spindleweed really aggravated his sinuses this time of year.

“I can brew you a potion for that!”

“No! No, Newt, it’s fine, really, it should be over and done with in a few days.”

“Oh. Alright. If you’re sure...”

Credence patted him on the shoulder and took off down the hall to Graves’ room. At least when he was there he didn’t have to pretend. Even if they couldn’t touch, Credence could openly stare at him as he pored over the papers on his desk until he noticed and directed Credence back to work with a sly grin. On more than one occasion Credence was so distracted he felt himself starting to become hard in his robes, which were very unforgiving for that sort of thing. He squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to think of the most boring alchemical formulas imaginable to get rid of it, but he still ended up racing to his room after the lesson to relieve himself quickly before Newt got back. It was unbelievably frustrating, and was made even more so by the fact that Graves seemed to be going on as if nothing had ever happened between them. The only time he ever broke was when Credence brushed past him to get to a bookshelf and Graves briefly had him pinned there, between his body and the unyielding wood. He inhaled sharply and for the briefest moment pushed closer, but then simply made a tiny pained noise as he retreated and hurried back to his desk. That evening Credence came so hard he bit his lip bloody trying to contain his gasps.

Finally, the day arrived. It was sunny again, not as warm but still pleasant, and Credence was buzzing with excitement as he followed Graves out of the Tower. He tensed every time another templar passed them but he felt much less nervous than before. Graves put together a basket with supplies and Credence was carrying it as they walked through the forest.

“What’s in here?”

“Food, mostly,” Graves replied, “and a few other things to make it convincing enough that you’re actually here to help me collect ingredients.”

“Is there, um, more of that wine?”

Graves paused and looked back at him with a curious smile on his face.

“Fond of that, were you?”

Credence would have died before admitting he imagined Graves tilting the bottle to lips, letting him drink as he kissed down his throat, then licking the rest of the taste from his mouth. He must have been red as a tomato and Graves took pity on him, chuckling quietly and turning back to continue through the trees.

The clearing was just as he remembered it, and this time he was bold enough to unlace his boots and dig his toes into that soft mossy floor. Graves just watched with a pleased expression before grabbing the basket beside Credence and unpacking a few items. There were empty glass potion bottles and some pruning shears at the top, but underneath was a large blanket that Graves laid out on the ground along with some fresh bread, cured meat, and fruit. It was still early but Credence’s stomach rumbled at the sight of it.

“We can do some spellwork before we eat,” Graves said, surveying the spread he just laid out, “and then perhaps when the sun is higher we can--”

He stopped abruptly when Credence snaked an arm around his waist, fingertips teasing at his muscled stomach through his tunic. His desire for Graves had been building all week and if he didn’t at least get one kiss before they started, he wouldn’t be able to stand it.

“Credence...” Graves turned to face him and Credence’s hand travelled around his waist to his back where it rested in the pronounced dip of his spine. Credence leaned in closer.

“I’ve been thinking about kissing you since the last time we were out here together,” Credence said, unable to tear his eyes away from Graves’ lips. “Just one, before we begin? Please?”

Graves groaned softly and raised his hands to cup Credence’s jaw.

“I could never deny you anything, Credence,” he murmured, and then kissed him firmly on the lips.

Almost immediately Credence opened up for him, and Graves made a possessive growl as he licked into his mouth, wrapping one hand around the back of his neck and holding him there. Credence didn’t have much experience with this sort of thing but he quickly began to realize how much he enjoyed being controlled like that. He was so pliant in Graves’ embrace, allowing his head to be tilted wherever Graves chose to move it, and he gasped into his mouth when he grabbed his waist tightly.

“Too hard?” Graves whispered against his lips, loosening his grip slightly.

“No! No, I... I like it,” he replied, pressing even closer against him as they kissed once more. Credence was half-hard and he knew Graves could feel it, but he didn’t seem to mind. At this point he wasn’t even thinking about getting off, he just loved the closeness and the intimacy of being able to feel the heat of Graves’ body against his own. However, when Graves shifted and pressed one of his thick thighs between Credence’s legs he let out a whimper and ground his hips down, nearly delirious at how good the pressure felt.

“Look at you,” Graves said, running his palm down Credence’s side, “so eager... Credence, has anyone touched you like this before?”

He could only shake his head, and then lean in to mouth at the side of Graves’ neck.

“Maker,” Graves hissed, clutching his hips even tighter. “We... we’ll go slow, I promise you.”

Credence pulled back with an almost horrified expression on his face.

“No! I’m not--” He huffed out a breath and forced himself to put a bit of space between them so he could concentrate. “I’m not a child. I’ve told you that I want this.”

“Do you even know what this is?” Graves asked gently.

“I’ve read books,” Credence said, realizing how pathetic that sounded, “and I’ve heard people talk... I know how it works. Besides... I already know you’re a good teacher.”

Graves groaned at that, and Credence allowed himself a tiny smile of victory.

“Mages aren’t allowed to fraternize with each other. The only way to become experienced is if a templar... takes an interest in you.” He trailed off, biting his lip.

“You mean if a templar _rapes_ you,” Graves corrected, shaking his head. “Credence, that isn’t an experience anyone should have.”

“I agree. And that’s why I want this so much, why I want you... because I’m choosing it.”

Credence could tell Graves wanted to argue with him. He could practically see his noble, moral walls crumbling as he stared up at him with what he hoped was an incredibly seductive gaze. Whatever he did, it seemed to work.

“Do you promise to tell me if I do anything – ANYTHING – you aren’t comfortable with? To not push yourself just to impress me?”

“I promise. I can always hit you with that lightning bolt like you taught me.”

Graves laughed, and Credence found himself completely enamoured by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

“And I know you’re about to tell me that we should get to work instead and practice some of those spells. Am I right?”

“Well... yes. We really don’t have too much time and--”

“But we can spend that time doing whatever we choose, yes?”

Graves nodded. “Yes, but--”

“Then what I choose is for you to put your hands on me, anywhere you like, and kiss me again.” The words made him blush but he managed to hold Graves’ gaze until the other man practically growled and pounced on him. Now that they had the freedom to touch it was as if a dam had broken, and Graves quickly reinserted his thigh between Credence’s legs as he kissed him deeply. The friction was divine and unbearable all at once and Credence whimpered into his mouth as he made abortive little thrusts with his hips. Graves grabbed his waist and pulled him down so he was the one controlling their movements, and Credence’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head with the sheer pleasure of it.

“You won’t be able to concentrate for the rest of the day if I leave you as you are,” Graves murmured, pressed his thigh up even higher. “Will you allow me to help remedy that?”

“Oh, please,” Credence begged, clutching at Graves’ broad shoulders. He felt his feet leave the ground as Graves lifted him by the waist and deposited him on the blanket, kneeling down to crawl over him for another kiss. His hands rucked up the fabric of his robes and he made a pleased noise when he discovered his legs were bare.

“I thought mages wore trousers under these...”

“We do,” Credence said with a coy grin.

Graves moaned and squeezed one of his thighs tightly. “You little minx...”

Credence let out a breathy laugh that was immediately cut off by a gasp as Graves ducked down to nip at his thigh where his hand had just been. He kissed and licked at sucked at the skin until a small bruise bloomed, which he traced almost tenderly with his thumb.

“Something to remember me by,” he said, looking up at Credence with a smile, as if Credence could ever forget a second of this. His underclothes were still on but Graves wasn’t in a hurry to take them off, instead mouthing at the damp cloth where Credence had been leaking. He shoved his hand in his mouth to muffle himself, just like he did in his room, but Graves reached up and pulled it away.

“No. I want to hear you.”

Credence swallowed thickly and nodded. His first breathy whimper as Graves slid his underclothes down sounded so loud in the quiet clearing, but Graves captured one of his hands and squeezed it to encourage him. When he finally put his mouth on his bare cock he couldn’t have contained himself even if he tried. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, especially when Graves hummed around him and sent vibrations all the way up his spine.

“Oh! Oh, Maker, please... please I need-- ah!”

Graves pulled off and chuckled softly, working him with one spit slick hand.

“What do you need, hm?”

Credence was bright red and wanted nothing more than to bury his face into his arms.

“I... I...”

“Shh, it’s alright, darling,” Graves whispered, “I’ll take care of you. Do you need to come?”

Credence nodded fiercely.

“Alright. Whenever you’re ready. Let me taste you, sweet thing.”

Graves’s mouth was on him again, taking him all the way down his throat, and Credence let out a strangled cry. His hips jerked up but Graves didn’t stop sucking him; if anything it made him even more enthused. He felt so incredibly hot and slick around Credence’s length as he bobbed his head up and down, and Credence couldn’t resist reaching down to tangle his hand in that thick, dark hair.

“Please, please, so close, so--” Graves did something unbelievable with his tongue that wrenched Credence’s orgasm right out of him. He wailed and his whole body contracted, trapping Graves with his thighs and his fingers still curled tightly in his hair. He shuddered through it, gasping for air as tremor after tremor coursed through him, and Graves... Graves swallowed every drop, only coming up for air when Credence started to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. He didn’t realize he had his eyes squeezed shut until he felt gentle kisses being pressed against his eyelids.

“You’re so beautiful,” he heard Graves whisper, and he curled into the warmth of his body, finding refuge there until his breathing evened out again. He could hear Graves’ heart beating steady in his chest, and when he blinked his eyes open he found himself staring at the laces of his tunic, barely covering the dark curls of his chest hair. Credence tugged at the strings, pressing his mouth to whatever skin he could reach, and he felt the rumble of a laugh against him.

“Shh, just rest,” Graves said, stroking his hair gently.

“But... you haven’t--”

“Don’t worry about me, Credence. Making you feel good was all the pleasure I needed.”

It was a sweet sentiment, but he could feel Graves’ hard length pressing into his hip... and he wanted him.

“Wh—what if I want to give you the same pleasure?”

He felt Graves shudder and cling to him a little tighter.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated--”

“I don’t. I... I’ve been imagining this. What you would feel like... what you would taste like.”

He let his fingers trail down Graves’ chest to where his trousers were still buttoned, and he slid his thumb under the waistband.

“Will you let me?”

Graves exhaled, and pulled Credence’s head up to look at him.

“Yes. Maker, yes, whatever you desire... Credence, it’s all yours.”

Credence surged up to kiss him again, moaning into his mouth as he tasted the bitter remnants of his own spend. It was somehow intoxicating mixed with the taste of Graves’ mouth and he almost let himself become lost there until he remembered what else was waiting for him. He didn’t have the patience to tease like Graves did and scrambled to yank his trousers and underclothes off as quickly as possible. When he was finally able to see him laid out bare, Credence’s mouth watered at the sight. He was bigger than he expected, thicker, with a bead of fluid at the tip just begging to be licked. So he did just that. Graves’ sharp gasp was followed by a shaky exhale as Credence’s tongue travelled down his length to the root.

“I... I apologize if I’m not very skilled at this,” Credence said quietly in between open-mouthed kisses to every bit of skin he could reach.

“Darling, you’re amazing, oh Maker, you’re... you’re...”

Graves groaned as Credence sucked the tip of his cock, and Credence could feel him straining to keep as still as possible. He wished that he would thrust up into him, wished that he could make him lose control like that.

“Please, tell me,” Credence whispered, ducking his head, “tell me I’m good for you.”

He felt Graves’ fingers tangle in his hair and then come to rest on the back of his neck.

“You’re so good, Credence, such a good boy,” he growled.

Even though he had just come, Credence felt his cock twitch at Graves’ praise. He leaned into his touch so Graves would squeeze at his neck again, and then shifted forward to swallow him down. He could only get about halfway before choking but he let some of his spit slide out of his mouth to slick up the rest of his cock and then wrapped one hand around the base.

“That’s... that’s perfect, Credence, just like that.”

With every bob of his head he took him just a tiny bit deeper. The noises he was making were filthy and wet and he would have been embarrassed if Graves wasn’t so obviously enjoying it. His eyes were watering and he could feel the slippery wetness of saliva all down his chin, and Graves’ fingers were making an absolute mess of his hair. Just when he was becoming too self-conscious about it, Graves looked down and whispered an impressive list of obscenities before tentatively pushing him down even further.

“You look so gorgeous,” he rasped, “such a pretty boy for me, hm?”

Credence whined around his cock and Graves finally allowed himself to thrust up into his mouth, tentatively at first, but when he saw Credence could handle it he pushed as far as he could go. Credence was nearly delirious with how good it felt to be used like that, to be giving so much pleasure to him. After a few more deep thrusts Graves tensed and abruptly pulled Credence off by his hair.

“Mmmm no, no, I want... want more, please,” he gasped, wiping the slick off his face with the back of his hand.

“Credence I—I’m so close,” Graves said through clenched teeth.

“Please,” Credence begged, “want you... want you to come in my mouth.”

The lewdness of the words made him flush but he knew Graves wouldn’t do it unless he asked him to.

“Maker’s breath,” he hissed, grabbing the base of his cock. “Quickly then, open up for me, sweet thing.”

Credence obeyed happily, hovering over his cock as Graves stroked himself. He leaned in to lick just under the darkened head and tasted salt on his tongue, a bit at first and then what felt like a flood. He swallowed as much as he could but some spilled back on Graves’ hand, and some missed his mouth entirely, landing on his cheek. Graves was almost silent as he came, his body shaking on the blanket and his hand clenching in Credence’s hair. If it was anyone else Credence might have found the taste unpleasant, but because it was Graves he wanted to lick up every last drop.

“Ah! Credence, too much, give me... give me a moment,” he gasped, gently pulling Credence away. Credence pouted slightly but settled for collecting the rest on his cheek and licked it off his fingers as Graves watched, wide-eyed and breathless. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before?”

Credence ducked his head and laughed, then crawled up to lay beside him. He would have been content to rest his head on his chest but Graves pulled him in for a searing kiss.

“Credence,” he whispered, cupping his cheek with one large hand, “that was... I don’t even have words for what that was.”

“You don’t need to say anything,” he replied. “All I want is to stay here like this, with you, Percival.”

Graves sighed happily, kissing the tip of his nose and making Credence giggle. He tugged him in closer and they dozed together just like that for the rest of the morning. Credence was briefly awoken once by a rustling in the bushes and a strange glint of light, but he was sure it was just another fennec or a nug that passed them by. He shifted and yawned, clutching the fabric of Graves’ tunic, and drifted back to a restful sleep.


End file.
